The Constance of Midnight
by hecatesearring
Summary: Mohinder had thought that Sylar might be a better alternative to letting The Company kill him. Now he's not so sure. Mylar slash from a demented mind. Will return the favor of a review.
1. Chapter 1

_(Author's Notes: Hello, I'm Hecate's Earring. I've no idea where this is going. I am open to suggestions. I guess I should say that I've nothing at all to do with NBCs Heroes, though I doubt I could fool anyone into thinking otherwise even if I tried._

_added: 11 04 13-_

_I wrote the first 4 chapters worth of material years ago, during early days of season 2 of Heroes, after which this story is solidly AU. I posted that all in two long unwieldy chapters and haven't updated since until now. If anyone still cares about this story or even this pairing, I'm truly sorry for the long wait. I always meant to get back to it some day when life eased up on me. Then I sort of forgot about it. Then I got a review a couple months back which got me thinking about this pairing again. I realized that I didn't like having started something without finishing it. I doubt I'll get a single other bit of feedback again on this story or Once Upon Another Time which I also intend to finish, but feel free to review and prove me wrong. I'll love you for it._

_Chapters 1-4 are mostly old material that got reworked, fleshed out, re-edited, as I added to the story. Chapter 5 is all entirely new material. Chapter 6 is currently in very, very rough draft form (or what passes for that in my world.) I make no promises about when it will post. I'll try not to let it take another five years though. I hope anyone who eventually finds this can enjoy a long, claustrophobic, dialogue heavy, possible mind-fuck/possible redemption story, because that's all that seems to be looming on the horizon here at the moment. Okay, here we go:)_

The Constance of Midnight- part one

Mohinder awoke suddenly in the dark with weight on his body and a strong hand clamped across his mouth. He didn't need to see to know what was happening.

"Mm-ar!"

"Shut up, Mohinder. Just listen. I could have killed you a thousand times over. I'm not here to hurt you, not unless you make me."

The bedside lamp turned on all by itself. This wasn't another dream. Mohinder looked up into the eyes of his worst nightmare come true.

"Don't scream," Sylar whispered slowly then removed his hand.

Mohinder didn't scream, not because any survival instinct or higher reasoning dictated such but because he was incapacitated with sheer terror.

"Look, do us both a favor and don't scream later either? The Company's on to your game with Bennet. They used you but never trusted you. Now that they have a sufficient farm of antibodies in those you've cured, they've decided to introduce you to their early retirement plan. But it's okay, Mohinder. You're coming with me now."

"Why?"

"You can't protect yourself."

"What is that to you?"

"Come on, Mohinder. We're wasting time," said Sylar while rolling off of him to stand by the bed. "Dress. Leave your stuff except what you need. You've got two minutes."

"I could do with some privacy."

Sylar grinned looking rather bemused. "You've got nothing I haven't seen before- and licked."

He tried not to let it bother him that Sylar now watched like a hungry dog as he undressed and dressed again. He took one change of clothes, his toothbrush, and his laptop. "I'll require an ATM."

"Being short on cash is the least of your worries. I'll go first. You follow. If you try anything stupid, I'll break both of your legs. Then you're still coming with me, Mohinder. Understand?"

Mohinder knew this was no idle threat. "Yes." He followed close behind through the parking lot and across the street to where Sylar had a beaten dark-colored sedan waiting.

"Drive," said Sylar tossing him keys.

Mohinder had just buckled his seat belt, put the seat forward, and adjusted the mirrors when the roadside motel in which he had stopped for the night exploded with enough force to rock the sedan up onto the passenger side wheels. When the automobile righted itself, bits of rubble and burning debris rained down on top of it.

"Ma choud!"

"I don't know what you just said, but tend to agree with the sentiment. Drive."

"Drive to where?"

"Does it matter?"

After about ten minutes of driving south, Sylar told Mohinder to pull into a parking garage. Changing vehicles from the dark gray sedan to a dark blue one took Sylar all of twenty seconds. Somehow he reshaped keys with his mind now, apparently. He handed them back to Mohinder.

"Sylar, where are we going?"

"North, avoid the general area."

"Did you plant that bomb?"

Sylar smirked seeming genuinely amused by his suspicion. "Why would I do that?"

"I do not know. Did you?"

"If you really think I did it, why believe me if I say that I didn't?"

"Was this all some misguided attempt to regain my trust?"

"So Mohinder, do you think all this _trust_ you have in me now was worth the trouble of blowing up a motel?"

Mohinder was fully awake now, but was quite certain that he was not thinking clearly. Sylar was manipulative and murderous. As a former watchmaker with intuitive understanding of how things work, a timed explosive device fell well within his abilities. Still, planting bombs seemed pointlessly destructive, too far beneath his talents, and frankly out of character somehow. "How did you know that this would happen then?"

Sylar shrugged and stiffened as if the whole subject made him uncomfortable. "I painted it. Well actually, I prefer pastels now. They travel better. A lot of things have happened since Kirby Plaza. The Company decided that they could control me with a combination of drug cocktails and Candy."

"Candy? I had no idea you liked candy that much."

"I didn't. They tried to make me think I'd lost my powers though and needed the nice folks at the Company to help me get those back. After I escaped and found my way back to civilization, I started keeping tabs on them. Do Molly and Parkman know that you've been trying to infiltrate?"

"Yes."

"You've put your little family at risk, Mohinder. No more Haitian solution available for them, not that I should care."

"You should care. You know what Molly can do."

"True. Well, Parkman's not completely worthless, or so I assume. Write him a note. Tell him to take her and run. Hopefully the Company thinks you're dead now. That should make things easier for them."

He drove on past generic urban sprawl and a convoy of emergency vehicles travelling in the other direction. He didn't want to speak to Sylar again but the silence was even more uncomfortable.

"Why did you risk yourself to save me?"

"What? I can't be your hero, Mohinder?"

"You killed my father!"

"I also saved your life. Come on, let's just call it even. We could have a fresh start. Get to know each other all over again. Wouldn't you like that? "

"Flirting with now me is completely inappropriate."

"You're right. Stop the car." Mohinder pulled into a loading zone and parked. "Release the trunk," said Sylar. Mohinder did. "Keys." Mohinder turned off the ignition and dropped them into Sylar's hand. "Let's go." He met Sylar behind the car. "Hop in."

"Into the boot of your stolen car?"

"Please?"

This was ridiculous. Who climbs into the boot of a stolen car upon the request of a known serial killer? Or, who other than Mohinder Suresh, apparently?

"Comfy in there? It won't be for long. I just need time to think."

"You are locking me in the boot of a stolen car, so that you can think?"

Sylar shrugged. "You're distracting. I am flirting with you and should be thinking instead. Watch your head!" Then he slammed the trunk closed.

As far as Mohinder could tell, Sylar drove just like Zane Taylor had, as if he were taught how by some little old woman years ago and had never bothered driving ever since. Mohinder tried to stay alert. He attempted to estimate where he was by the turns and distances travelled. After an hour or so he gave up completely. What did it matter where he was? He was exhausted. The hum of the vehicle on the road was hypnotic. He wasn't hermetically sealed but wasn't getting a whole lot of oxygen to his brain either.

Hours later, Mohinder woke up nude in a double bed with fresh white sheets and a very nude Sylar spooning at his back. Mohinder tensed.

"Good morning, sleepy head."

(Thank you for reading. I love hearing from you. Comments of any sort are always welcome.)


	2. Chapter 2

The Constance of Midnight, part two-

So it seemed that his motel exploding wasn't just another in a long series of Sylar-related bad dreams. "Where are we? Are we still in Ohio?"

"All you need to know is that you're safe here."

Safe from the Company perhaps, but not safe from Sylar. Not that anywhere was safe from Sylar. Where he was, appeared to be just one large room, except for two spare doors that he decided had to be a lavatory and a closet. "Are we below ground somewhere?"

"You sure you're not on the list?"

"There are no windows."

"The good doctor is already searching for his escape route, I see."

"Are you holding me here, Sylar?"

Sylar chuckled and hugged him closer.

"I meant, am I your prisoner?"

"I'm doing my best to protect you, Mohinder. For some reason, I don't trust you not to wander off and undo all my hard work."

"Why would you even care that the Company wants me die in a motel bombing?"

"I told you why."

"What? That you want to play at being a hero now?"

"No. I told you that I wasn't through with you yet."

How could he be so naive? How could he have let himself just ignore what Sylar was and what he did? Part of him, that part that missed Zane Taylor so intensely still, wanted to be able to trust Sylar and wanted... Fine, so he was pathetic and probably deserved whatever Sylar was about to do to him.

"Oh honestly, Mohinder! I can hear your fear. I can smell it on your skin. Think about it. If I'd wanted to hurt you, I would have gotten started on that by now."

"Then what do you want with me, Sylar?"

"Well, first off, I want you to forgive me for killing your father. You really should, you know. If I'd known you then, believe me, I wouldn't have bothered."

"That doesn't excuse his murder!"

"That's not the point. Do you remember in Montana when you said that justice for your father's death could never be served. That was when you were thinking like Mohinder Suresh, before you became consumed with things that are completely beneath you- hatred, vengeance, tuning forks-"

"I am still a better person than _you_!"

"Oh shush. Of course you are! It's not even a contest, Mohinder. But, in order to be true to what you are, you need to forgive me. That's what a good person does. You need to forgive me for your father's murder for your sake, not for mine."

"You!- are completely- mad!" Without a doubt this was the strangest conversation he had ever had in bed though he had slept with other geneticists, and well, a serial killer.

"By popular standards, everyone is mad."

"By popular standards, everyone is not a serial killer! Most people never kill anyone at all!"

"How would you arrive at that conclusion? Did somebody get a government research grant to make up some statistics about it? Why would you believe that even? Just because _you_ haven't killed anyone yet? It's not like you haven't tried, Mohinder. You know what? You're not making it easy for me to help you here."

"So, I'm supposed to believe that you want to help me, now?"

"Why is that so hard to believe? I've always helped you. I helped you as Zane-"

"Do not speak his name!"

"I helped you again just last night."

"You've also tried to kill me, Sylar! Right now, you are holding me here against my will!"

Sylar shifted his weight onto his right elbow withdrawing his arm so that his fingers now were just brushing Mohinder's hip. "Oh Mohinder, I've never _tried_ to kill anyone, well, except for Peter and Claire. You'll admit, they're far more challenging than most. Anyway, I thought we'd already established that I'm not a good person. Haven't you been paying attention?"

"Not a good- not a good person? Sylar, you are evil incarnate."

"Now see, I prefer to think of myself as a free-thinker. Have you ever considered that you may be too bound by social convention, Doctor Suresh?"

"I require a toilet."

"In there. I took the liberty of unpacking your toothbrush along with the rest of your stuff. Come right back to bed with me after so that we can finish our discussion."

"I need a shower, as well."

"Sure, right after our talk. Unless you'd rather that we talk in the shower? Oh hey, maybe I should come with you to the toilet now, too? Or, will you promise to come right back to bed with me, instead?"

"Fine."

When Mohinder closed the lavatory door, he slid open the medicine cabinet silently.

"I Mohinder-proofed while you were sleeping! No spare curare under the sink either!" called Sylar from the bed. Nor was there any drain cleaner and not so much as a safety razor, Mohinder noticed darkly. So, he used the facilities, washed his hands thoroughly, then his face, brushed his teeth using his own pink toothbrush and Sylar's blue toothpaste, and padded back to Sylar, who pulled back the covers and patted the bed for him.

"Where are my clothes?"

"You don't need your clothes just to climb back in bed with me."

"I thought you wished to talk, Sylar?"

"I do, just as soon as you come back to bed."

When Mohinder sat, Sylar wrapped an arm around him and pulled him under the covers, spooning him from behind again. "Mmm."

Mohinder took a deep breath. "What is the purpose of this?"

"What do you think my purpose is?"

"What makes you think that you can seduce me?" He hated how weak he sounded.

"You already know the answer to that. But if I were seducing you, we wouldn't be talking now. Would we? Or, is it that you want me to seduce you? Is that what you want, Mohinder? You'd only have to ask me once, you know."

"What I want is for you to inform me of your intentions."

"I have so many intentions. You'll just have to be more specific than that, I'm afraid."

"Why this sleeping arrangement?"

"It's either this or the floor. I didn't have time to prepare properly for a houseguest."

"Why the nudity?"

"I don't own sleepwear. I notice that you didn't bring any either."

"I had two minutes! Why do you have your arms around me?"

"I'm a cuddler. Remember? Why do you keep trying to change the subject to sex?"

"Sylar, I am not going to forgive you for murdering my father!"

"Sure you will. The sooner you do it, the better for you."

"Is that a threat?"

"Are my threats ever that subtle? Look, that's just the truth about how things work, Mohinder. You already know you should forgive me, so why not just do it?"

Sylar was extremely bright and probably was amusing himself at Mohinder's expense. Still, it was entirely possible that Sylar fell so far outside the realm of normal that he truly had difficulty understanding even the most basic of human emotions. "Sylar, can you imagine, for a moment, what it would be like to know that one of your parents was murdered?"

"I think I can imagine that, yes."

"If I were the murderer, could you ever forgive me?"

"Well, let's see. I've forgiven you for torturing me. I've forgiven you for experimenting on me. I've forgiven you for trying to murder me. I've even forgiven you for betraying me in my darkest hour when I thought I might be the bomb that was going to level my home city of New York for no good reason. I'll forgive you anything, Mohinder. Know why?"

Because love is never having to say you're sorry? "No."

"Because trying to do the right thing is inherent to your nature. Yours is a dangerous sort of "_ends justify the means"_ morality but it's your compass and you mostly steer by that. Even when you do terrible things it's only because you can justify doing them in order to serve some noble goal. All that talk about fulfilling your duty as a son by murdering me- very telling, Mohinder. But who were you trying to convince about all of that? Certainly not me."

"I should not have-"

"I let you torture and experiment on me, so I guess we can file those events under the category of rough and weird but still consensual sex. What if I had let you kill me though? The guilt of taping, drugging, and shooting me in the face would have eaten you alive eventually. First, you would have handed yourself over to the police. They wouldn't have punished you, or if they did, not nearly enough. At any rate, suffering society's punishment wouldn't have made you ever feel clean and whole again. You would have needed to keep on punishing yourself. I know you, Mohinder. You would have been brutally thorough, not like the revolving door of the legal system. You could have punished yourself for murdering me until the day you died, though. Nothing you could have done to yourself would have ever been sufficient to the task of healing your broken soul."

"Look, Sylar, if you have regrets-"

"I'll tell you another secret," Sylar was whispering hot breath into his ear now. Grotesquely, Mohinder's body was responding just as it always had to this man. "We're alike in some ways. We'd both like to fix everything. Some things aren't broken though. Other things are unfixable. Right now, you're what most needs fixing, Mohinder. I can fix you too. If you want to help, just let me. Okay, now it's your turn to tell me a secret. Did you hate your father?"

"Unbelievable! Did you read a book about psychology on your day off from murdering people?" unfortunately the flash of anger did nothing to abate his arousal, it had rather the opposite effect.

"I've read many in fact. Gabriel read most of them a long time ago. You said you weren't familiar with the works of Abraham Maslow, so I'm guessing that psychology's not really your thing. Come on, Mohinder, humor the raging psycho-killer. Did you hate Chandra?"

"I did not hate my father. I loved him."

"Why?"

"What sort of a question is that?"

"A simple one that you seem to find complicated. Did you love him just because he was your father?"

"Yes. No! Not just because of that."

"So tell me all the reasons why you did love him."

"Because-"

"Yes?"

"My father was a great man, a brilliant geneticist."

"My father was a nobody, a slightly above average watch-maker, which is to say, not a very good one. That really didn't factor into the sort of father he was."

"My father's work was very important to him."

"But despite all that, he was a model father to you? Always found the time to watch you play at the park? The two of you enjoyed long walks, heart to heart chats, chess, fishing trips, and picnics at the shore? No? I didn't think so. Tell me how he really treated his son, Mohinder."

Mohinder sighed and closed his eyes for a moment. Sylar tightened his embrace then after a time relaxed it again. It was a warm, relaxing, reassuring hug, yet another strange phenomenon that had no rational explanation. To Mohinder, Sylar was a paradox. In his odd way he could be affectionate, attentive, and thoughtful, even. He could also rip the brain out of another living human being without a second of hesitation or remorse.

What surprised Mohinder was not that he had so much to say about his father, but that he felt like saying it all to his father's murderer. Once he started, words about his early history with Chandra just poured forth. All the while, Sylar was there, cradling his body and listening to his words intently.

"Generally, he was gone before I awoke in the mornings and came home very late at night after I was asleep- if he came home. He often spent months at a time living out of his office in the university. There were whole years that I only saw him in passing."

"When you and he did spend time together?"

"When he was at home, he ignored me. Sometimes, he would make mentions to my mother regarding his latest research over meals. I absorbed it all like a sponge. He didn't like to be questioned or interrupted though. Since I could never understand there was no point in him explaining it, he would say. Then, he would hole up in the study or his laboratory. I, of course, knew better than to disturb him at all while he was working. He was always working. When I was six, he sent me away to boarding school in England. I'd write him letters. My mother would write back for them both. When I was home on holiday, he never made an effort to spend time with me. There was always some project requiring his full attention. He did attend when I received my doctorate from Cambridge. I was overjoyed he had come all the way from Chennai and just bursting with hope and pride. I found out soon after that he only attended because my mother had insisted. He was already in Paris for a conference, anyway."

"So you thought things would be different finally once you became a brilliant geneticist?"

"I thought that I would become important to him, if I could be part of his work."

"That never happened?"

"When he announced that he was leaving the country to pursue proof of his theories, I wanted desperately to go with him. I offered to give up my life in Chennai, my position, my friends, my future, everything, in order to follow and assist him. He made it clear that he did not want me to come, that I had no place in his work or his life.:

"That must have hurt."

"I was angry with him. Angry with myself. I did not hate my father, Sylar. I idolized him. I only really knew him from his work, his writings, from my mother's stories, from his friends who I had taken great pains to make my friends. I tried to convince myself that he was trying to protect me somehow by shutting me out. You helped make that easy. His murder, the Company- for a time everything here in America seemed sinister, all part of some dark design. It was simple to pretend that he was aware of the forces at work and had spent my entire life protecting me from all of it by ignoring me when he could, or by pushing me away when he couldn't."

"Did you ever learn the truth?"

"Which truth is that?"

"That to him, you were a constant reminder of his failure to cure your sister. Shanti was the only reason you were conceived. Your father named you Mohinder long before you were born. Your name means 'the great possesser of a drop of life.' He meant to bleed that life out of you as a baby. From the moment you were born, he wanted to murder you to give your sister everything you were and everything you ever could be."

"Why would I have to die to cure Shanti?"

"According to his calculations, the virus was progressing faster than you could safely donate blood. There was a slim chance that one massive transfusion might have worked for Shanti. It would have meant trading your life to give her about a ten percent chance to beat the disease. Chandra was willing to take those odds. Your mother stopped him. He never forgave her for that, by the way, for getting attached to you, for letting Shanti's only chance die instead. Did you know that you have an illegitimate younger brother? Oh, he spoke about you, Mohinder. He told Gabriel all sorts of things, talking in bed, just like we are now."

"Stop. Just- just don't."

"Fine. Forget I mentioned it then. Do you at least want to know what he thought of you as an adult?"

"Does it really matter?"

"Absolutely not. The only part that matters is that I know you far better than your own father ever did. He went looking for special people and somehow overlooked his own son, the most truly special person I've ever met."

"His work was of great importance to the whole world. It was his duty to pursue it as he did."

"I'm the first to agree. Then again, I wasn't his son. So, you don't hate him?"

"No. I don't hate him. I do accept that he was deeply flawed."

"Do you forgive him for that?"

"Yes."

"Do you hate me, Mohinder?"

"No, though I often have tried to hate you, Sylar."

"Would you say that I too am deeply flawed?"

"Unquestionably."

"Can you forgive me for that, Mohinder Suresh?"

He was aware that Sylar was holding his breath, waiting for the answer. "Not today."

Sylar exhaled. "Then here," he unwrapped himself from around Mohinder, unlocked his bedside table with his mind, levitated a .45 to him, and handed it to Mohinder.

"You can shoot me if you want. I won't stop you this time."

Mohinder looked from Sylar's warm expression to the cold metal in his hand. He had never cared for guns and always felt awkward handling them. A martial artist, a piece of medical equipment, even a lowly mosquito could be just as deadly. "Not today, Sylar," Mohinder whispered turning the barrel away from both of them and handing the gun back. Sylar returned it and locked the drawer again.

"I feel like we've made some progress."

Mohinder felt exhausted and not at all like he just woke up. "Why would you even need to keep a gun, Sylar?"

"Stopping bullets every time takes practice. You hungry?"

"Enormously."

"While you shower, I'll cook, if you'll help me with the dishes later?"

"Was it loaded?"

"You know, for someone so scientific you're not very big on experimentation, weird sex with duct tape and curare aside."

As Mohinder sat up his head started to pound. He wondered if it were just a lack of caffeine or if he was dehydrated. At least the pain wilted his arousal. "Fuck you, Sylar!"

"Would you like to? Right now? Or in the shower, perhaps? We could put off breakfast for a while."

"Allow me to rephrase that. Go fuck yourself."

"I like you like this. This is more fun than being in the company of guilt-ridden Mohinder, or martyr Mohinder, or mopey Mohinder- not that I would kick any of them out of bed, either."

"Sylar, do not give me that gun again unless you require more practice."

"How about I try to do what you need me to do, when you need me to do it?"

"Fine. I need you to release me, immediately."

"That's what you want, Mohinder, not what you need. I'm starting to think you really don't need a shower, either. You don't seem in any big hurry to take one."

(Thanks for reading. All comments are most welcome.)


	3. Chapter 3

The Constance of Midnight, part three-

Mohinder stopped himself from locking the bathroom door. What would it accomplish? He adjusted the water, stepped in, grabbed one of three bottles of shampoo from the shelf and stopped. He brought the shampoo closer to his nose and very nearly fell to his knees.

Since the curare incident, Mohinder realized, he had spent far too much of his time deceiving himself. Zane and Sylar were not the two different people he wanted them to be, any more than Sylar and Gabriel Gray were, regardless of what Sylar liked to think. But Sylar both literally and figuratively murdered Zane Taylor. The figurative death was what Mohinder felt keenly and mourned more deeply than the death of his own father.

He saw now that the deaths of Zane and his father were similar events in his life. Both were the deaths of illusions that Mohinder had helped to create and had wanted fiercely to maintain. Both were also the deaths of practical strangers to him. The _real_ Zane Taylor, the one Mohinder knew, missed, and even now mourned, the one who gave of himself so generously and supplied so much comfort and affection, was still alive, as well as could be expected under the circumstances, and purportedly was making him breakfast at this very moment. Unfortunately, Mohinder's deep feelings for that man were not what died that day. What died was the very best part of Mohinder Suresh. Strangely enough, Sylar was far more confident than he that the best of him could be resurrected somehow.

It had been difficult for him the last time that Sylar had asked for his forgiveness. He had wanted to say the words and wasn't sure why. It would have been a lie anyway. Wouldn't it? What possible difference would saying three little words make? Forgiveness wasn't as easy as saying the words. Nothing was.

Besides that, he did not want to forgive Sylar. Why should he? He didn't even want to pretend to forgive him. Forgiving Sylar was the same as- as what? The same as condoning his murders? The same as just asking to be deceived and victimized again? The same as admitting that he needed Sylar, not to mention the amazing make-up sex? Self-deception is a useful tool when asking yourself questions to which you do not want to know the answers. He was going to have to break free soon, before Sylar started answering those questions for him.

He exchanged the bottle for another. This one smelled like Sylar. It would do. He wondered idly if the third was Gabriel Gray-scented, or perhaps the fragrance of some other identity that Mohinder knew nothing about. Suddenly, Mohinder snatched up the bottle of Zane Taylor again and poured it out down the drain, rinsed it out a couple of times, and set the empty bottle back on the rack. Being forced to smell Zane all over Sylar simply wasn't cricket, nor any other game in which he intended to participate.

When Mohinder finally emerged, he found the table set, and Sylar still nude except for a dark blue apron on which Superman flew over Metropolis carrying two plates full of food. What sort of person owned a novelty apron but no sleepwear?

On the table, there was dry toast, jam, canned pineapple, orange juice, and tea. Tea was an early bond he'd shared with Zane, the first American he'd met (and only one other than Molly) who didn't seem faithfully married to morning coffee.

"I know it's not much. I really need to shop. I wish I could just take you out for breakfast." Sylar sounded embarrassed and unnervingly human. He neatly folded the spotless apron and returned it to a kitchen drawer.

There had to be knives in some of those drawers, Mohinder thought. "It's fine. I appreciate the fact that you bother to feed your captives anything at all."

"Don't be silly, Mohinder. Sit. Eat."

Mohinder felt too hungry and thirsty to do much of anything else. He had only stopped for one meal yesterday- if indeed that was only yesterday. "Do you always lounge about in the nude, Sylar?"

"No, but we already have too many obstacles between us. Pass the jelly, please."

After they ate, Mohinder washed dishes. Sylar dried. "Write Parkman that note. I need to go out."

"Please tell me that you're not sending it through the mail?"

"No, I'm delivering it personally."

"You can't!"

"I take it that you're not worried for my safety?"

"Sylar? Please! Don't hurt them."

"I've known where you were living and who with for months now, Mohinder. Don't just assume that finding people and mind-reading don't appeal to me. I am the jealous type, too. Be especially glad for his sake that you keep separate bedrooms."

"You've been in our house?"

"Just watching over you and your little family. You and Molly really should have moved in with the Sanders. The Company rates Niki a level nine threat. Parkman's only a two. He doesn't have a clue how to use his potential."

"And just what sort of threat does the Company rate you?"

"I don't conform to their scale. We need to get you back to bed."

"You just let me out of bed."

"Best place for you while I'm gone. A lot more comfortable than pinned to a ceiling, for example."

"What if I were to give you my word that I will not try to escape while you are out?"

Sylar sighed. "If I were anyone else, I'd accept your word gladly, because I'd be able to trust you. You could always rationalize breaking your word to me, though. I'm only keeping you here because I don't want you to get yourself killed. Neither do you really, so get in bed."

"I am using the toilet again first."

"It's a deal."

When Mohinder climbed under the covers, he tried to get as comfortable as possible. Suddenly he simply couldn't feel his arms or legs anymore.

"No need to panic. The partial paralysis you're experiencing is completely reversible. Just a little something I picked up on my travels."

"Couldn't you have tied me up instead!"

"You really do have a thing for that, don't you? Right now, this is better for our purposes," Sylar explained, tucking the covers around him, "no struggle, no rope burns, no chance of escape. This may slow your circulation a little, but won't impede it in any way. Oh, would you like me to pick you up something special while I'm out?"

Mohinder rolled his eyes and shook his head.

"Okay, I need to change now."

"Too bad you are incapable of change."

"See, that's why you're hiding from the Company instead of doing stand-up."

Sylar dressed quickly. Apparently he didn't own any underwear these days either. Every item of his chosen clothing wrote the word nondescript in capitol letters, in shades of green, gray, or blue, all dark enough to blend into shadows.

Then Sylar came to him and sat on the bed. He reached out and touched Mohinder's throat. He let his finger linger there while he explained, "There now, I deadened your vocal cords too. Now you won't be tempted to scream your silky voice raw. No one would hear anyway, except for me. Try to get some more rest." Sylar withdrew his hand slowly and stood. He dimmed the lights with his mind.

"I'll bring you home real food, Mohinder." Sylar leaned him over and kissed him lightly on the forehead, the same way that Mohinder kissed Molly after tucking her into bed. Then he was gone. Mohinder turned his head and suddenly saw that he was no longer wearing his wrist watch, nor was there a clock to indicate the time, except for the digital one over the stove which blinked _12:00 am _twenty four hours a day. Obviously, this was all part of Sylar's plot.

Sylar didn't want him to note the passage of time. Here, in this timeless reality he was without company except for Sylar. His continuing life and health were completely dependent upon Sylar's whims. Mohinder might not know much about psychology but had heard of Stockholm Syndrome. As he watched the green flash of the clock, he began to calculate ways that he might be able to cling to his sanity until he found a way to escape Sylar's realm of constant midnight.

(Thank you for reading. I love hearing from you. Comments of any sort are always welcome.)


	4. Chapter 4

The Constance of Midnight, part four-

Mohinder awoke again to Sylar massaging his left arm.

"How do you feel, Mohinder?"

"Fine."

"No pins and needles?"

"No Sylar, I'm fine. How long were you gone?"

"A while," Sylar started to undress. Mohinder made an effort to remain focused exclusively on his face. "I did try to make it quick."

"Did you-" kill Molly and Matt? "-deliver my note?"

"I didn't kill them, Mohinder." Sylar was nude now except for his trousers.

"Oh my God! You did!"

"I didn't. I don't need Parkman's ability to read your fears. They're written all over your face. I left your note on his pillow. How do you and Molly sleep through his snoring?"

"I don't believe you."

"Really? Maybe I should have killed them both then." Sylar smiled showing all four of his canines. "I could always go back out."

"No! Sylar! Please, I'm sorry that I didn't believe you."

Sylar shrugged. "Just joking anyway." Then he sat on the bed as his trousers came off. "Are you hungry? I brought home lots of food. How do you feel about aloo gobhi?"

"Did you find a twenty-four hour Indian restaurant somewhere?" If Mohinder didn't ask the time directly, perhaps Sylar might tell him or at least let some clue slip.

"Better. I found a recipe and brought home the ingredients."

"You cook?"

"I get by."

"Would you like some help?"

"Ever made aloo gohbi or naan bread?"

"No."

"Want to learn how with me? I picked up an extra apron for you while I was out."

But still no sleepwear, no doubt. "Sounds like an adventure."

Apparently "getting by" for Sylar meant that he was quite accomplished in a kitchen. Since he had memorized the recipe, Sylar explained what he was doing and why he was doing it, as he worked. Apart from how to make aloo gobhi and home-made naan bread, Mohinder also learned that Sylar compulsively washed his hands and cookware after use, practiced his powers however he could as he cooked, and seemed to own nothing sharper, aside from his mind, than the cutlery they had used at breakfast. He couldn't quite imagine himself attacking Sylar with a plastic utensil, though, or being lucky enough to inflict any real harm on anyone but himself, if he did.

Sylar watched him with a look Mohinder could only name as apprehension, as he lifted the first plastic forkful to his mouth.

"Mmmm, Sylar this is wonderful."

"Really? You're not just- saying that?"

"Taste it! It's delicious."

Sylar's smile before he did taste the dish made Mohinder's heart hurt. It was so boyish, so full of pleasure at hearing the smallest of praise- so Zane Taylor.

Sylar, lifted his own fork, chewed thoughtfully, swallowed, and used his napkin before he spoke, "Well, it's good. Not enough toasted mustard seed though. Could use a little more ginger and less cumin too. I can improve this recipe a lot."

"Feel free to try. Are you fond of Indian food?"

"Why yes, Mohinder, not so very long ago I became quite fond, especially of certain Southern Indian cuisine."

Mohinder decided to ignore the comment and hoped he wasn't visibly blushing.

"I've been thinking about your situation. I wish you could think of yourself more like a guest here than a prisoner."

Mohinder met his eyes and set down his fork. "Do you ever intend to release me, Sylar?"

"Yes, of course I do. I wouldn't keep you here with no good reason. Well, I wouldn't kick you out or anything if you wanted to stay. Look, it might take me a couple of months before I can free you safely. In the meantime-"

"Just what do you imagine will change in a couple of months?"

"It might not take that long. Certain people have to die- Bob and his shockingly lovely offspring for starters, not that she's probably really his kid. Then anyone who reports directly to Bob. Then anybody else I find who needs killing, I guess."

"I didn't ask you to kill anyone!"

"No, you didn't. You don't have to ask. That's pretty much what I do."

"Sylar, please don't harm anyone at the Company. There must be some other way."

"Mohinder, just what did you suspect Bennet's super-secret plan for dealing with the Company was? Hostile corporate takeover?"

"Truthfully, I tried not to think about it."

"So don't think about it. I get a few new powers. You get to go about your business of finding more interesting people for me to meet. Even Bennet's going to hate me just a bit less after all this is over, well, at least for a little while. It's the perfect solution for all involved."

"It's hardly perfect for those you intend to murder."

"You know what the Company does, Mohinder. You know what they tried to do to you. Why do they deserve your forgiveness? Fine. I withdraw my generous offer to take care of the situation without you. That leaves you three choices. You can stay my captive audience forever. You can request that I commit several brutal murders on your behalf. Or, you ask me to kill you. You don't have to decide right away. Take a couple of days to think it over."

"Or, you could just release me?"

"That isn't one of your options. It doesn't accomplish anything."

"What could killing me possibly accomplish?"

"For one thing, I wouldn't have to worry about you anymore. I could have a good look at your brain, on the off-chance that you do have a power that hasn't emerged yet. I could assume your identity to draw the Company to me. Plus, I'd have no reason to spare Molly and Parkman with you gone. I'd also have the rest of your list to work my way through. Maybe I'd read up on molecular biology and continue your research. That's just off the top of my head. It seems your death could accomplish quite a bit for me, I'm afraid."

"Then why haven't you killed me already, Sylar?"

"Maybe letting you live will accomplish more. Maybe I enjoy the company. Maybe I'm in love with you, Mohinder. What do you think?"

"You don't know what love is."

"That's why I'm asking the foremost authority on the subject- Doctor Mohinder Suresh, though he never knew his own father, is still single at 33, and is such an easy lay that he fell into bed with the very first serial killer who came along- well, fell into bed after crossing a state line and the melting of multiple small kitchen appliances for foreplay. You really should get some better credentials, Doctor."

"I have love for the human race, Sylar. At least I do not go about slaughtering people like chickens!"

"Nice analogy. I don't actually cut heads off though, not most of the time, way too messy. Besides, the Company is more a threat to the human race than I'll ever be. I guarantee that all their little experiments that you know about don't scrape the surface of the horrors they are committing. Just how do you think sweet little Molly came down with the incredibly rare, formerly incurable Shanti virus while under their tender loving care? Oh, it was an accident on their part. Do you want to know what they were really trying to do to that poor innocent child?"

"I don't. Kill them all then."

"Just for you, Mohinder."

"No. You were going to do it anyway."

"Why yes, I was; so your conscience is still pristine. Now eat your aloo gobhi, Mohinder, but remember to save some room for dessert."

Dessert was ice cream that Sylar whipped up, flavored with shreds of candied ginger, and chilled off to the perfect texture using his mind. Sylar was many things, including a human ice cream machine.

"My nasty little comment about love hurt you. Didn't it?"

"You said that to hurt me, Sylar, which is unsurprising considering the fact that you are a sadist."

"Oh Mohinder, you know I'm not really a sadist."

"Do I? You just go about impersonating one, I take it?"

"I don't mind causing pain. It's often useful. I don't get a sexual thrill from it, though."

"Just what do you enjoy about killing then?"

"I enjoy furthering my interests. In that respect, I'm more like a mob hit-man or a political assassin than someone who kills for sexual gratification."

"So you think you are better than them- the killers who murder for sexual pleasure?"

"Better morally? Not necessarily. I am a safer date, though."

"Not by much."

"What I said earlier, about you being an easy lay. That's what got to you, isn't it. That's really not how I think of you."

"I don't give a damn how you think of me, Sylar."

"Liar!"

"Do you require telekinesis to move that massive ego about with you?"

"I don't require it at all; but it is quite handy for all sorts of things."

"Why do you favor it then? Over your other stolen powers?"

"As the first power I added, it made me who I am, Doctor."

"That may be true, but that's not the only reason."

"It's the part I'm willing to share."

"Why? Why are you so reticent to discuss your powers with me?"

"Once you understand me, how am I interesting? Why would I want you to lose your intellectual fascination in me?"

"I see. Like my father lost his, you mean?"

"Far be it for me to speak poorly of your father, Mohinder, since you idolized him and all."

"Yes, because that would be so much worse than killing him."

"I'm not going to tell you that my killing Chandra wasn't personal. Gabriel's the one who had the most to complain about, though."

"I'm sorry that he did not- treat Gabriel well."

Sylar laughed and licked the last of his ice cream off his spoon. "Oh, now you're humoring me, Doctor. What else could you possibly want from me, I wonder?"

"What time is it?"

"What difference does that make?"

"The difference it makes is, that I wish to know what time of day it is."

"Past one in the afternoon. Let's call it 1:22 pm. That's my best guess."

"Thank you, providing that you are not lying to me, of course."

"What would be the point?"

"Why did you take my watch?"

"I got bored waiting for you to wake up. I took it apart to fix it for something to do. At some point, you overextended the winding mechanism just a little. A few more times, I'd have to replace it for you anyway. Plus that would have decreased the overall resale value of your watch. Original parts, matching serial numbers, that all makes a big difference to collectors. So I was doing you a favor. I only got as far as taking it apart though, before you started to stir."

"Can you put it together again?"

"You know that I can, Mohinder."

"I want my watch returned, whole, working, and set to the correct time."

"Of course. I'll fix it when you sleep again."

"When do you sleep, Sylar?"

"I don't sleep the same way you do, not any more."

"Which means- what, exactly?"

"How much do you know about dolphins?"

"Are you changing the subject, or something?"

"Not at all. If you think about it, having both left and right hemispheres of a brain is a lot like having two separate brains; not that most people even use one brain very well. People are unconscious breathers, or I should say, most people are. Dolphins constantly have to be conscious in order to breathe, because if they're not, they'll drown. Now, pretend that you are a sleepy dolphin. You shut down half your brain so it can sleep, while the other side remains wide awake. This allows you to continue to surface for air and watch for sharks. I do the same when I sleep now, shut down one side or the other side when I'm tired, while I remain active and alert."

"Are you telling me that you could be asleep right now?"

"I could be dreaming of you. You'd never know. I'm progressively increasing my functionality while sleeping, too. Multi-tasking is still easier when I'm completely awake."

"Is this a power, Sylar?"

"Not really. I have used my powers to help me to achieve this."

"How did this happen?"

"I read about how dolphins sleep. I knew that I could do it too. Like everything else it takes practice. I do think someone without powers might be able to learn how to sleep this way, though certainly not as easily as I did."

"What else have you been able to learn from books?"

"I read a really good one on Tantric sex recently. Care to help me practice my technique?"

"No."

"Your loss. You should try to get some form of exercise while you're here."

"I do not engage in sex as a form of exercise, Sylar."

"Just to abate the loneliness on long road trips? Or are you a car fetishist, or is it a flea-bag motel that really does it for you?"

"Perhaps people who have not killed my father really do it for me."

"So why haven't you had sex with one of them recently? Don't get me wrong. Not jumping Parkman, that I understand."

"My sex life is no longer any of your concern."

"You say that like you have one for me not to be concerned about."

"How would you know, one way or another?"

"I just know. Your last time, you were with me. I know it's true. Lie to me. Tell me that I'm wrong, Doctor."

"Very well, I haven't been able to maintain an erection since the last time I was with you. The trauma of being apart from you has made me impotent. Is that what you wished to hear?"

"Have you tried Viagra?"

"None of that was true, Sylar."

"So, you just decided to remain celibate after me? I'm touched. In a way, that's even more poignant than erectile disfunction."

"Sylar, consider every aspect of my sexuality none of your business. I'm going back to sleep."

"You can't be tired, Mohinder. You just woke up. You're not falling into a depression are you? Lack of sex will have that effect. Oh, was "going back to sleep" just code for grabbing some alone-time in order to masturbate?"

"Perhaps I'm tired because I've grown weary of this conversation. Go fix my fucking watch!"

(To Be Continued. All comments are most welcome.)


	5. Chapter 5

The Constance of Midnight- part five

When Mohinder awoke, he was no longer paralyzed as he had been in his latest dream. Somehow, he was still nude, aroused, and draped halfway on top of Sylar though, who was nude again, of course, and now had both arms wrapped around Mohinder almost reverently. It might have been a pleasant way to wake up, if instead of with Sylar he were with some other random person on the planet.

"Hello Mohinder. I guess you really did need more rest, after all. You've barely stirred. I checked to see if you were still breathing at one point."

"What? Are you drugging me now, too?"

"Drugging is your thing. And why would I drug you? You can hardly keep your eyes open for more than a couple hours at a time. I'm starting to worry about you. Have you been sleeping poorly at home? It's Parkman's snoring, isn't it?"

"Sylar, I haven't slept well since the day I met you."

"But you've been sleeping just fine since you've been here with me. That's got to mean something. Right?"

"Yes, it means you exhaust me. Congratulations."

"I always have exhausted you. I just used to have a lot more fun doing it is all. As I recall, so did you. You miss us, Mohinder. I know you do. It's okay, I miss us, too. Why not let me show you and the wooden soldier there just how much?"

"You are very much mistaken. I don't miss being lied to and played for a fool by my father's killer."

"No, but you do miss how you felt about me and how good we were together. Can you admit that much, at least? Even to yourself?"

"How I felt about you, when I thought you were someone else entirely, you mean?"

"That someone else was still me though."

"Yes Sylar! Zane, Gabriel, it's all the same. It's all just you! I do understand!"

"No, Mohinder. You don't understand. You can't have any idea, really. Zane is part of who I am. He was the personification of my- softer side, I guess. I dumbed him down for the cute and harmless factor. I don't obsess over puerile pop tunes. Other than that, part of me is Zane. Gabriel isn't part of me at all any more. His boundless guilts, his imagined inadequacies, his towering fears, his impotent rages, his irrational compulsions, his undermined beliefs, all those essential instabilities combined somehow like alchemy to transform his raw material into me.

"And Gabriel?"

"He was a major problem for me. Unstable, hard to control, but he just sort of dissolved away over time. I have his skill set and his memories. The rest is gone now. Believe me, I'd be more than willing to trade those for something more useful, too. Maybe that can be a pet project for me some day. I know it's not outside my current abilities to rewrite my remembered history in part or entirely even. It would just take time is all. I could just substitute a better set of memories maybe. You said before that I was incapable of change. You were so wrong, Mohinder. I'm more capable of change than any human being can imagine."

"Yes, I was wrong. My father was wrong. But not about that. You're not something new, Gabriel. You are just another human being but with powers. You are not Sylar, not the next evolutionary step. You are not Superman, not a god. Whatever powers you have or may collect, you can not transform yourself into anything other that what you already are. If you have regrets-"

Suddenly Sylar burst out in a fit of suppressed humor. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh, honestly. It's just, why is it always one step forward, two steps back with you, Mohinder? It's become your signature dance move. It must be so frustrating to be you. It is really fun to watch."

As soon as Sylar said the word "watch" Mohinder glanced and saw that yes, he was now wearing his watch again. It was running and hopefully set to the right date and time, as was promised. He couldn't quite bring himself to thank Sylar for giving him back his own watch, but still felt that he needed to say something, nonetheless. "Thank you for fixing my watch."

There, in that look of surprise and delight at receiving unexpected gratitude, there was Zane again. It was simply devastating. "Oh. Well, you're welcome, Mohinder. I was happy to do that for you. Why did you seem so lost without it, though?"

"I need my watch. It's as simple as that."

"But why? It's not like you're in danger of being late for a meeting with Bob or for take-out night dinner with Molly and Parkman." They did take-out nights every Monday. How much time had he spent watching the house, anyway?

"I didn't want to lose all sense of time here. Without my watch, I can't tell if it's day or night. As you pointed out, my sleeping patterns have already become erratic. Since you never seem to sleep these days, there is no keeping time by your schedule either. I had worried that you might have taken my watch away from me on purpose, trying to disorient me."

"Yeah, I figured that out. But really, what difference does having your watch back make to you now, exactly? I could reset it every time you sleep, if I wanted. I could make little changes right now, with my mind, while we are talking. You'd never even notice. Having your watch back now can only give you some false sense of security, or an illusion of normality, maybe. It's dangerous to put faith in illusions, Mohinder. Don't give illusions power over you. Your watch isn't a magical talisman. It's not even a very useful tool for you in here. In reality, it's just a watch that might not even be working now, if I hadn't fixed it for you. But my powers are real. I can provide you with real control over your future, real security in your current situation, if you'd let me serve those purposes."

"Just a watch! Just a watch, says a man who took his entire assumed identity from one! I quit! You've won Zane, Sylar, who ever you are! I can not take a single more minute of this misery! You said I had a couple of days to choose. I'm choosing! Just kill me now and end this heartless charade!"

"God Mohinder, you can be such a drama queen. You know what? You need some exercise. If you don't want sex, fine. Get off of me, then, and go do some push ups, or something."

"Don't you think for a moment that I don't know what you have been up to here! You are the one who put me in this position! You- cuddler! You keep me naked, confined, aroused, confused all the time. I had nothing to do with any of this! I don't know how you managed to get me on top of you, but I know it doesn't mean anything!"

"Look, it doesn't matter. Maybe you just got cold while you were asleep. What ever the case, it's not like I minded. But if you'll notice, you are the one on top of me, on my side of the bed. Despite what you may imagine, I didn't telekinetically transport you over here. I didn't crawl in underneath you either. Plus, I was never the only cuddler in our relationship as you well know-"

"You don't need a side of the bed! You need a dolphin pool! And we never had a relationship! It was a terrible lie with benefits!"

"Okay. Believe what you want, Mohinder. Just listen to me for a second. I've spent time confined against my will. I know what it's like. I'm going to try hard to make this all as easy for you as possible. You need to do your part, though. Don't keep freaking yourself out like this. It's not good for your health. And no, that's not some kind of veiled threat that I intend to follow up with violence when you're least expecting it. And that's another thing, just stop convincing yourself that my saving you from being blown to bits was somehow the worst-case scenario for you. You're still alive, all right? Alive and in one piece isn't such a bad place to start."

(To be continued. Thanks for reading. All comments are welcome.)


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